Seeds Sown, Harvests Reaped

As I was copying down a passage from 1 Corinthians 13, I was taken back to a time long ago when, as a fairly young child, I was attempting to begin some sort of a devotional time. I had the impression that it was important, but I barely knew where to start because it all seemed so overwhelming. So each and every time I would read the exact same chapter: 1 Corinthians 13. After all, it couldn't get any better than that, right? Over time, I grew proud of myself for reading it until I had almost memorized it and could practically read it with my eyes closed, but I never went on to read anything else for a very long time.

Your word I have hidden in my heart, that I might not sin against You.
//Psalm 119:11//


"Therefore lay aside all filthiness and overflow of wickedness, and receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls."
//James 1:21//


Recently, I was asked during a college interview what I thought were some practical measures that I might, as an admittedly intelligent person, take in order to avoid arrogance in knowledge. I required a very long pause to collect my thoughts. My response came down to something about grace and meeting people where they are at, using knowledge to build others up and recognizing their limitations not as a matter of unintelligence but a lack of appropriately crafted instruction. But it was a hard response for me to form, not the least because I have been told that whatever degree of intelligence I possess is a "sweet intellect" (as Kiersten put it) and that I am not prideful. It's not something I try very hard at, hence, it is that much harder to explain. I believe it was G.K. Chesterton who said that it is the things we take for granted which are the most difficult to explain; if you don't believe it, then ask a man to explain breath, whistling, or any number of seemingly simple things. They are so very vast that one hardly knows where to begin because they are the world in themselves.

As I was recalling those funny days when the Bible was an unopened treasure trove, something clicked. Could it be that those many times reading, over and over, planted a seed in my heart that one day bore fruit? Oh, it took time. I recall the awkward middle school years when I was caught in a panicked web of trying to learn the meaning of humility while succumbing to graceless arrogance. But perhaps it was the words of that chapter that softened my heart at last to know the worthlessness of a loveless corpus of knowledge. Too easily can 'corpus' become 'corpse,' if it remains without the life-giving breath of joyful sacrifice.